


and tell me to stay

by mindthekat



Series: an exercise in growth [2]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: And I'm not sorry, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, M/M, POV Andrew Minyard, Post-Canon, Soft Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, this is mostly just soft porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:14:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23860648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindthekat/pseuds/mindthekat
Summary: one time Neil is the one asking Andrew to stay
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Series: an exercise in growth [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1719280
Comments: 23
Kudos: 411





	and tell me to stay

**Author's Note:**

> this is really just soft porn and I have nothing else to say about it

It becomes a thing then, without Neil even trying. It’s more of an accident than anything but it’s impossible to censor himself when Andrew’s lips are mapping out the planes of his body.

“Andrew - baby - fuck.” Neil whimpers, he fucking _whimpers_ , against Andrew’s neck. Like before, Andrew’s hands on him go still. He doesn’t pull away but he’s still for what feels like hours.

“Fucking junkie.” He mutters, finally, before grinding down against Neil’s thigh. Andrew kisses him like the world begins and ends with Neil’s mouth. Like he needs it more than air in his lungs. Like losing Neil would be losing a piece of himself as well. His fingers wrap around Neils wrist, thumb firm against his pulse. He has Neil pinned to the mattress beneath him, one leg wedged between runner’s thighs. He’s still dressed in the sweatpants and tank top he fell asleep in and Neil is in nothing more than clean boxers, his hair still wet from his post-run shower. Kevin is at Wymack’s for the weekend, something about making up for lost time, and Nicky is no stranger to making himself scarce when Kevin isn’t around. He may be daft but even he can tell when Neil is on edge from too many days without Andrew’s undivided attention, a luxury never afforded to him when his cousin or the other foxes are around.

“Want you everywhere.” Neil breathes, squirming against the mattress.

“Marking. Yes or no?” Andrew noses at Neil’s jaw, his tongue darting out to run along the shell of his ear. Neil fights back the shudder that runs up his spine and can’t quite keep his hips from bucking up against Andrew’s groin.

“Fuck yes. Andrew, yes.” He barely gets the word out of his mouth before Andrew is sucking a bruise right below his ear. Neil is as mouthy in bed as he is on the court, always has been. But the mewls he makes when Andrew bites down and runs his tongue over his work to soothe the skin are downright pornographic.

“You want the whole building to know you’re mine Josten?” Andrew teases, voice flat as it can be despite the oxygen he can’t quite get to his lungs. Neil doesn’t miss it. After so long of _this,_ it would be impossible to miss. He’s full-on panting but he still has a smug smirk across his infuriating lips and Andrew can _feel_ it.

“Want the whole campus to know.” Neil pants. “Want them to be able to hear me from the court.” He’s just running his mouth now, his brain deprived of all the oxygen currently making its way to his cock.

Andrew sucks lower on his neck, right below his first mark. Hard. “If you mention exy or court one more time I’m kicking you out of this bed.” He growls when he comes up for air.

“You - _ah_ \- like me too much.”

“In case you forgot, I don’t have to like you to suck your cock.” Andrew punctuates his words with a firm press of his palm to exactly where Neil is leaking precome just _thinking_ about Andrew’s mouth on him. “Now shut the fuck up.”

Despite the biting tone of his voice, his mouth is sweet against the scars on Neil’s chest. He traces them with his tongue, pausing to suck on his nipples on his descent towards his hips. His fingers press into the dip of his hipbones, firm but not enough to hold Neil down if he needed to get away. Andrew isn’t soft by any means, with anyone and least of all Neil. But their boundaries exist for a reason and despite Neil’s “always”, Andrew knows more than anyone that a yes is a yes until it’s a no. Andrew brushes his thumb across fading evidence of the hit Neil took to his ribcage during last week’s scrimmage and before he can think better of it, he presses a ghost of a kiss, open mouthed, to the bruise. He feels more than hears Neil gasp, a sharp intake of breath that feels like surprise more than anything.

“Andrew..” Neil breathes.

“Shut up.” Andrew mumbles. He’s let too much slip already. There’s a crack in the wall and if he’s not careful he will leave enough room for Neil to crawl through and that is just something he cannot afford. That four letter word is blooming in Andrew’s chest again, the way it does when Neil uses that tone of voice. The way it does when he gets that look in his eyes, the one that tells Andrew that he’s seen. The way it does when Neil gives Andrew everything he is and everything he has because that’s just _who he is_. The way it does when Andrew can feel the itch to run just rolling off of him in waves and he chooses to stay anyways. The way it does because he stays.

“Drew, I..”

“Don’t.” Andrew bites at his hipbone for good measure because he _can’t_. He can’t hear those words on Neil’s tongue. Words are not permanent. Words are fleeting and they’re empty and Andrew can’t hear them. Not from Neil. He and Neil trade keys to houses and cars and they trade truths and they _stay_. They don’t need words.

Anything Neil wants to say dies on his tongue the moment Andrew gets his mouth on him. He’s certain there is no feeling in the world that can compare to the wet heat of Andrew’s mouth. He clutches the sheets, conscious of the permissions he’s been allowed. “Where can I touch you?” It comes out as half a moan.

Two taps on his wrist and his hands are in Andrew’s hair, pulling at the curls still sticking up from a night of restless sleep. Neil could die like this and die a happy man. It’s these little boundaries he’s been given permission to cross over the past two and a half years with Andrew that Neil never takes for granted. Some days it’s fingertips wrapped around Andrew’s unruly waves and sometimes it’s his hands pressed flat against Andrew’s ribcage. Some days it’s _everywhere but my ass._ Some days it’s nowhere at all and Neil loves every iteration of Andrew he is lucky enough to experience. If he were any less observant he might miss the softening of Andrew’s edges. He might miss the tenderness that slips through between hard presses of lips and teeth scraping against skin. He might miss the hand firmly on his thigh in front of the other Foxes or the way that hand slips to his back when they order at Eden’s. It’s possessive and it’s the closest Andrew will ever come to saying _I choose you._

Neil rarely feels the itch to run anymore. When he does, it’s settled by lips that taste like a combination of sugar and cigarettes. By an arm thrown over his waist at night. By keys to a house and a car and a _heart_. A heart that has no reason to let him in and does anyways, at least in the ways that Andrew is able to let him in. There’s nothing conventional about the way the two of them fall together but they fit nonetheless. Neil smoothes Andrew’s edges and Andrew soothes the restlessness in Neils mind.

Neil groans as Andrew swallows around the head of his cock, fingers digging into his thighs before he pulls off and bites down next to his fingers. “I want to fuck you. Yes or no?” Andrew’s voice is gravely and Neil nearly whites out from the pleasure that runs up his spine at knowing Andrew is unraveling and that it’s _his_ fault _._ It’s still a fairly new development, both Andrew allowing Neil to see him losing control and allowing himself the pleasure that comes from being connected to Neil in a way he’s never been with anyone else. Allowing himself to take just as much as he gives. And it’s incredible really. Neil is mouthy and responsive and when it doesn’t make Andrew want to throw him off the roof of Fox Tower, it makes him want to bury himself further inside of Neil.

“Yes. Fucking hell, of course. Need you inside me.” Neil is rambling, just shy of hysterical. Andrew’s lips are swollen and wet from spit and precome and he looks up at Neil through his eyelashes and Neil is absolutely done for. He reaches from Andrew’s hair to grip the base of his dick before he comes far too early. “Wanna come with you.” He explains when Andrew raises an unimpressed eyebrow, taunting him. And, fuck, it’s worth it for the way Andrew’s grip tightens on his thigh and the way his pupils get blown out.

“Dumbass.” He mutters despite the hammering in his chest. He’s far beyond the days of jerking off alone in the shower after sucking Neil off. He can’t even remember the last time he’s felt like he needs to hold Neil’s hands out of the way while he gets him off. Neil is allowed to touch now. He’s allowed privileges with his hands and smart mouth and Andrew can’t pinpoint when it became impossible for him to step backwards. He can’t pinpoint the exact moment where things shifted and the idea of getting off _without_ Neil made him more sick to his stomach than the idea of getting off _with_ Neil. While Neil is mouthy and painfully straightforward about what he wants, he is never pushy. He never asks for more than he’s been given but once they’ve crossed a new boundary it becomes impossible to go back. It’s not that he’s impatient. He’s infuriatingly patient despite his short temper. It’s more so that Andrew, damn his perfect recollection, can’t seem to get the images out of his head: of Neil’s mouth on his cock, of the look on his face when Andrew curls his fingers _just right_ and brushes against his prostate, of the pleased hum he makes when Andrew pulls out and comes all over his stomach. It’s fucking obscene.

So while it’s still new, Andrew finds himself thinking about it constantly - fucking Neil. For as many things as he has experienced, both in Juvie and with Roland, this is something he’s never allowed himself before Neil and knowing it’s something they’re both experiencing for the first time with one another causes something to twist uncomfortably in his chest. It screams _mine, mine, mine._ And more than that it screams _want, want, need_. It screams _home._

He works Neil open slowly, carefully. He’s not a gentle person but he’s slow and he’s careful with his fingers and Neil taunts him the entire way through. “Andrew, come on. Fuck me.” He whines, hips twitching forward to meet the press of Andrew’s fingers.

Andrew catches his lips between his own in part to shut him up and in part to distract him from the nervous shake of his hands. He busies himself with reaching for a condom, pushing his sweatpants down over his ass, and licking Neil’s neck before lining himself up and pressing inside, all the while swallowing Neils moans of _yes, yes, yes_ from his mouth.

Once he’s fully seated inside, he buries his face in Neil’s neck and focuses on the beat of his pulse so that he doesn’t come prematurely. It’s just so fucking tight and hot and if he moves he doesn’t think there’s any way he’s going to last. And underneath him, it seems Neil is trying to get fucking killed because he’s making these breathy sounds and tilting his hips up to get more friction.

Andrew presses him firmly into the mattress and growls a “Sit. Still,” into his ear.

“ _Ah_ \- whenever you’re ready - Drew.” And he’s fucking smirking. The idiot is grinning ear to ear, pupils blown, looking absolutely fucked already.

“Fucking hate you.” Andrew spits between gritted teeth. It’s taking every ounce of control he has left not to rock into Neil relentlessly and melt into the blinding pleasure that comes from being so _close_ to him. The four letter word blooms in his chest again, body connecting with mind and heart to completely rip Andrew’s control out from underneath him.

“I know.” Neil breathes before pressing the softest kiss to the corner of Andrew’s mouth and _that_ , that is just too fucking much. It’s one thing to be seen and it’s an entirely different thing to be known. To be understood. For Neil to know Andrew and to want him despite it. For Neil to _want_ him. For Neil to choose him, over and over again as if it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Neil moves his lips over Andrew’s jaw, just barely ghosting over the sharp cut of it before pressing down intently over his pulse point. Andrew shudders, unable to fight the sheer sensitivity of his neck. “Not attractive.” He scolds, punctuating it with a roll of his hips that makes Neil gasp against his skin.

_Yes, yes, yes. More._

Neil whimpers and moans and pushes against Andrew’s grip to meet the pace of Andrew’s shallow thrusts. He’s always been overwhelmingly responsive in bed but when he has Andrew between his thighs and deep inside of him, it’s like he forgets there’s a world that exists beyond the four walls of their bedroom.

_Harder._

Andrew pulls out nearly to the tip and slides back in so slowly that Neil arches his entire back into it and his mouth falls open in a groan loud enough to wake the neighbors.

“Fuck - Andrew - why don’t we do this all the time? You feel so good.” Neil babbles.

“Junkie.” Andrew mumbles, finding a pace that has Neil close to tears with how good he feels. How good _Andrew_ makes him feel. The pleasure is coiling in his stomach and he’s sure he isn’t going to last much longer, especially when Neil’s lips ghost over his throat again.

“Drew ‘m close.” Neil moans, his kisses open mouthed and erratic across every inch of Andrew’s skin he can reach. His voice is raw and it goes straight to Andrew’s cock. Neil is fucking pulsing where they’re connected, tight and hot around Andrew.

_Shut up. Shut up. Don’t stop._

The mantra repeats in Andrew’s head. He’s torn between wanting Neil to stop talking and wanting him to never stop showing Andrew just how much he wants this, needs this.

Andrew feels his orgasm beginning to roll over him in waves and the panic builds in his chest. It’s not the firs time they’re doing this and its certainly not the first time they’re getting off together but the panic is persistent. Andrew reaches between them to stroke Neil’s cock in pace with his thrusts and catches his mouth with his own just in time to stifle the series of moans that breaks free from Neil’s mouth the second he starts spilling over his stomach. And he clenches - fucking clenches - down around Andrew’s dick and that’s the breaking point. Andrew goes to pull out so he can finish but Neil, completely fucked out, murmurs _stay_ against his lips and uses the leverage from the ankles crossed behind Andrew’s thighs to press him deeper into his ass. _This_ , this is new. It’s actually unreal, the vortex of pleasure he falls into when he spills into the condom, Neil’s ass still clenching around him as he comes down from his own orgasm.

“Yes, Andrew. Fuck. You feel so good.” Neil whimpers. Andrew is breathing heavily above him, his arms shaking where he holds himself up.

“Shut up Josten.” Neil catches the way his voice breaks at the end, the only indicator that he’s just as wrecked as Neil is.

“I’m here. I’m real. I’m not going anywhere Andrew.” Neil murmurs into his neck, not daring to move a muscle while Andrew is so on edge. And it’s too much. Andrew is standing on the edge of something, on the edge of feeling something he hasn’t allowed himself to feel since chasing that feeling left him bloodied and bruised and broken. Since it left him with scars on his arms to remind him that hope is the most dangerous feeling to hold. “It was good for me. It was so good Drew.” Neil still holds Andrew between his thighs, tethering him in place.

Andrew’s heart rate slows back to steady. The trembling in his arms goes from fear and panic to exhaustion and he allows himself to be wrapped into Neils arms. The panic is always there. Panic over taking as much as he’s given and panic that he’s _just like them_. He hasn’t needed to pull away from Neil, put distance between himself and the object of his _whatever this is_ , in months but the panic still claws at his chest in the moments afterwards. Where he feels too much and not enough like himself all at the same time. Where he feels like every nerve in his body in tuned to Neil. His breath, his stupid hair tickling the side of his neck. His stupid freckles scattered across his shoulders.

_I hate you. I hate you. I love you._

The mantra repeats in Andrew’s mind as Neil presses open-mouthed kisses across his jaw and face. His fingertips ghost over Andrew’s scalp and if Andrew leans into the touch, well nobody needs to know. He feels a smile pressed along his jaw and digs his nails into Neil’s hips in retaliation.

“Pipe dream.” He dips his head and drags his teeth across Neil’s collarbone, trying to soothe the urge to flee.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m yours Andrew.” And fuck Neil for knowing him. Fuck Neil for knowing him and choosing him and wanting him.

_Mine, mine, mine._

Andrew’s never had something of his own that he didn’t have to strike a deal for. He’s had to bargain and trade for everything in his life but Neil has given himself over and _chosen_ Andrew. Neil, who has never allowed himself to want anything. Neil, who has never thought of a life past tomorrow. Who takes things one day at a time because he’s never been offered anything else. Neil, who wears the key to Andrew’s house in Columbia around his neck because _it grounds him_.

“I hate you.” Andrew presses into his neck because the other words bubbling up in his chest are too much.

“I know.” Neil replies with his fingernails scratching at Andrew’s scalp.

And later after they’ve showered and eaten dinner and curled up with each other on the couch, Andrew with a book in his hand and Neil watching a pro game with his head in Andrew’s lap, Andrew thinks he might not hate the idea of keeping this forever. 


End file.
